


Seamed Together

by onceuponamoon



Series: Knitting [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Knitting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponamoon/pseuds/onceuponamoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For super stressful days, Jim has what he calls "rage knitting" where he cranks out small projects like a potted plant cozy for Sulu and a stack of fingerless gloves for those nights where memories of his narrowly conquered death haunt his bones and he can't get warm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seamed Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [matchboxbones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchboxbones/gifts).



> Unbeta'd. Just a quick little ficlet for my dearest Megan.

For super stressful days, Jim has what he calls "rage knitting" where he cranks out small projects like a potted plant cozy for Sulu and a stack of fingerless gloves for those nights where memories of his narrowly conquered death haunt his bones and he can't get warm. He makes bookmarks for the few paper books he has in safekeeping and thin headbands for anyone who might want one for downtime or shore leave. If he can swing it, he'll replicate different colors of yarn so that the tiny Starfleet emblems he knits reflect the proper departments. Red for operations, blue for sciences, yellow for command -- all against neutrally colored backgrounds of the natural wool he brought with him on board. 

But when he wants to relax, Jim switches to his long-term projects: a few patches for his blanket, a pair of intricately cabled socks, a slightly oversized sweater for Spock.

Garter stitch is numbing, ribbing is mindless, and stockinette makes Jim sleepy. The blanket has the barest amount of cabling, so he enjoys working on that just as soon as he's winding down for the night, but the socks and the sweater require slightly more attention. He hates turning heels but doing so successfully is almost as satisfying as carrying out orders with zero casualties.

The sweater, though... It had started when Jim had been recovering from the whole John Harrison debacle. Waking up to see Spock staring down at him with a near-smile and those too-expressive eyes had wrenched something open in his chest. Bones had seen it, played it casually grumpy as always, but said, "You ought to tell him," as soon as Spock left to take care of whatever Starfleet was trying to throw at Jim once the news that he was awake got out. 

Jim hadn't been able to do much between bouts of sleeping and physical therapy, but he’d been grateful when Uhura had come in and offered up the needles and yarn with little more than a dismemberment threat and a reluctantly fond smile. After that, the five year mission came up seemingly out of nowhere and Jim had convinced himself that maybe Spock hadn't actually meant for Jim to see...whatever it was that he had seen.

So they'd left orbit, drifted toward deep space all boldly going, and now all Jim has is this slowly but surely lengthening block of fabric growing on his circulars and the promise to himself that he'll tell Spock, "just as soon as it's done." 

Some days he holds it up, tugs on a sleeve to make sure it's long enough for Spock's lanky limbs. Some days he rips out rows and rows at a time just because he dropped a stitch. Some days he gets close to finishing a section and has to put it away, tucked between the book Spock got him for his birthday and the illegal booze he has for rainy days. A while back he started a collection of hats so that Spock would be able to do incognito work with Jim and the away team and so he allowed that to distract him for quite a few months in its stead. He'd ignored the sweater, left it to swim among the knits and purls of his other projects, secure on its needles.

Today, though, Jim is half buried beneath the soft brown wool, comfortable and quickly approaching drowsy. The pattern is easy multiples so he keeps going and going until he's nodding off. Before he knows it, he's casting off the last section, putting it on top of the others. Now all he has left to do is attach the sleeves to the torso and – it seems...too soon. 

But he made a promise. 

Another week goes by and Jim's shifts are ridiculous, resulting in more stress than necessary coming from those dicks in command and even the support from the bridge crew does nothing to lessen the tension gathering between Jim's shoulders. He goes back to rage knitting (and it results in a pair of really plain, loose socks that Jim likes to pretend are regulation enough to wear on duty). 

It doesn't take too long for things to wind back down and, after another short while, Jim pulls out the sweater pieces and seams them together quickly, efficiently, without thinking too hard. Before he can lose his nerve he requests entry to Spock's quarters.

Spock calls out, "Come," and Jim's struggling to control his breathing even as he steps over the threshold, the door hissing shut behind him after he's securely inside. "Captain."

Something about the way he says it – his _title_ , not even his name – denotes affection, respect, surprise. 

"Spock," Jim returns. He hesitates, for only a brief second, as he takes in the casual dark meditation robes and the spicy scent of incense. Then the vacillation dissipates; Jim trudges forward. "Here," he says, holding the sweater out for Spock to take, "I knitted this for you." 

The fabric complements the deep gray of Spock's robes, beautifully contrasts the pale green tinge of his skin. 

"You crafted this...for me," Spock says more than asks, "With your own hands." 

Jim nods, throat tight as he forces himself to continue, "I've been working on it ever since I woke up from the – because I love you, Spock. I tried to tell you when...but it was, ya know, hard to talk and all."

The fabric bunches between Spock's hands and, to Jim's surprise, Spock closes his eyes and brings it up to his face. Jim watches his inhale, the slow flutter of Spock's eyes behind the lids before they open once more. " _Jim_ ," he breathes, voice suffused with emotion, "No one, aside from my mother, has ever knitted an article of clothing for my usage." 

Jim scratches as the back of his head, tamping down the hurt at Spock's avoidance of his admission. "Well, I mean, I figured you wouldn't want something that you couldn't use and I know that Vulcans run a little cool and so I thought it'd be practical if –"

Two of Spock's fingers crest over the swell of Jim's bottom lip and Jim abruptly quiets. 

"Jim," Spock says again, moving closer, "I cherish thee." 

Spock bends to take Jim's mouth, brings their fingers together, and Jim smiles into both kisses.


End file.
